Prisoner of War
by xCaligula
Summary: Set during Eric's imprisonment during Insurgent. He finds himself in quite the predicament, and to make matters worse, Tris is the only one who can help him. Warnings for omorashi (which means piss stuff) and someone being into it.
1. Eric

**A/N: I'm sorry that I did this. I took too many liberties, I think, but I'm really into Eric to a disgusting degree, so here we are. I know the part with Tris coming in would absolutely never happen, but guess what? It was necessary for me because I am a loser.**

He was still in shock over his failure, but more than that, he was frustrated that his failure had been brought about by _her_. The fucking Stiff who had should have been nothing during her initiation, should have died early on, shouldn't have even made it to the compound, much less as far as she had. And to add insult to injury, she had been a goddamn Divergent the whole time. She didn't even belong, and yet she had always been there, fucking things up.

And now he was in a Candor prison because she had gotten the better of him. He knew it would not be long before he was returned to Jeanine in one way or another, but that did not matter. He had still failed, and he was still completely at the mercy of this faction and the riffraff refugees from his. He could see no way out that wouldn't end terribly for him. He was stuck.

It went without saying that he was beyond enraged about his current position. He did not like feeling trapped or helpless, and he did not like knowing that somewhere beyond the walls he was trapped in, his least favorite Stiff couple walked about freely, probably laughing at his expense. Each hour he spent drug on, and with nothing better to do, his mind became overrun with scenarios of all he was missing out on, all that went on without him.

Despite his upbringing, he had never been the fondest of reading, and yet he would kill for some sort of book if it might help take his mind off of things. If they kept him like this for too long, he knew he would lose his mind, and that would be a worse loss for him than death.

His living conditions were bad, which was to be expected of a prison, but if he had to guess, he would say that this was bad even for a prison. He had nothing but a hard bed, having to be lead by a guard just to use the bathroom. He hated that part in particular as far as feelings of helplessness went. He had been stripped of all privacy, and was left completely vulnerable to whoever guarded him. He could, he supposed, at least be grateful that it was never Four.

With his situation in mind, he only allowed himself to be taken to the bathroom once a day. It was not worth it to him to be subjected to that humiliation any more than that, and he was more than just a grown man. He was a Dauntless leader, damn it all, and he could hold it any other time of day.

Throughout the day, he would be visited by a guard periodically and given meals, asked questions, and offered a bathroom break. He would always wait until the last visit of the day before he took said bathroom break, and this was only on days he felt it necessary to drink enough to need to go in the first place.

His plan had worked well enough in the past, but on one day of his imprisonment, it did not. Perhaps it was because he hadn't felt like he needed to go the night before, or perhaps he had had a bit too much to drink in the morning. Whatever it was, it didn't matter now; all that mattered was that he had to piss. Badly. And it was at least an hour until his next meal.

He sat on his bed, overly aware of the dull ache in his bladder. At last, there was something to take his mind off of the scenarios that constantly played, but this was not the sort of distraction he welcomed. Really, he could not remember having to piss this badly in ages, and he wondered why the urge was so strong this time.

Every time he shifted, the bed would creak and he would feel heat rush to his face. It was ridiculous that he was showing his need at all, but if he sat stock still, he felt as if he could leak, and that would be worse than if someone happened to hear him shuffle and happened to figure out his problem just from that.

Still, he hated this. Even if no one else was around to hear him or see him, he still knew exactly what was wrong with him, and that was bad enough. He had to piss to the point that he couldn't sit still, to the point that he was resisting the desire to squirm like a child with everything he had. He was actually beginning to question the capabilities of his bladder, after years of perfect control.

 _I am not giving in to this_ , he told himself, tapping a foot on the ground as he waited. At this point, he did not care about the vulnerability created by his guarded bathroom breaks. He would have had almost anyone present, as long as it meant he could piss somewhere other than his pants.

But as time ticked on, nobody came. He was sure that it had been an hour, and that this was the time he was given his afternoon meal every day, but there was nobody there and he could not hear anything at all. There was no sign of anybody, and the ache in his bladder had evolved into a sharp throb. His occasional squirming had become nearly constant, and he had given up tapping his foot in favor of crossing his legs at the ankles. He hoped that if he heard someone coming, he would be able to regain and maintain his composure in front of them.  
And still, no one came by. The constant pulsing in his abdomen was stronger than he had ever experienced, and he felt that he could burst at any moment. There was a part of him that longed to shout for someone, but he knew that, even if it was possible for someone to hear him, his pride would not allow for something like that. He would simply have to hold it.  
A sudden, sharp pain shot through him, the wave of desperation rolling over him so powerfully that he grabbed his crotch without a second thought.  
When his mind cleared and he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hand in a flash, snarling a bit as he did so. This was not happening. There was no way this was actually happening. It was some hallucination, some interrogation tactic, or something like that.  
He knew it wasn't. He knew that they were done interrogating him and that they had taken all the information from him that they could. This situation, no matter how unfathomable, was real, and he was really on the brink of pissing himself.  
Eric clenched his fists tight, pressing them into his thighs, trying to use this pain to take his mind off the pain in his bladder. He bounced his knees and grit his teeth, his breathing growing short and labored. His bladder ached for relief, and he stood up, trying to take some pressure off of it.

For a moment, he felt a bit better, but he was hit by another pang, this one strong enough to make him double over, his hand once more between his legs. He let out a low growl, and thought about various ways to make the late guard on duty suffer for putting him in this position.

The first time he thought he wasn't going to make it, he promptly tried to push that thought out of his mind. He was not pathetic, he was not weak, he was not going to lose to something as simple as a full bladder. Again, he reminded himself that he was a grown man and a Dauntless leader, and that holding it should never be a challenge for him.

But, Jesus Christ, he had to piss. He had to piss right the fuck now, but there was nobody to unlock his damn cell door, and there was nowhere for him to do it that wouldn't be noticeable, and he would never live it down if it got out that he hadn't been able to wait for the bathroom.

He tried to pull his hand away, but then he felt a warm spurt leak into his pants and his eyes widened. _No_. When he felt another spurt, he grabbed himself without hesitation, rocking back and forth in place. He was actually losing control, little by little, and he had actually been pushed to the point of grabbing himself. He clenched his eyes shut and grit his teeth again, groaning.

"I can do this, I can do this, I can do this," he chanted quietly to himself, tuning out the world around him as he concentrated only on keeping the contents of his bladder within his bladder and not on the floor. There had to be someone coming soon, they couldn't really skip his meal. This damn faction was too dedicated to honest treatment of prisoners to let even him go without basic accommodations. And right now, he really needed one of those basic accommodations.

He was standing there, a hand between his legs and the other hand in a tight fist, alternating between bouncing and rocking back and forth, with his eyes shut, chanting to himself so quietly it sounded like a dull buzz, when she entered the room. Of course, he was so caught up in his own actions that he did not notice at first, but it did not take him long to realize he was not alone and that, at last, he would be let out of his cell.

Or maybe not.

His eyes locked with those of none other than Tris Prior, the young woman who had caused him to end up in this mess in the first place. And she could see, quite plainly, exactly the mess he was in.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a strained voice, trying to sound like his old, cocky self, despite the obvious. "I would think they'd be afraid you'd be too unstable to be allowed around me."

She ignored him and went straight to the topic he was hoping to avoid. "What's going on?" As if she didn't already know.

"I'd think that was fucking obvious," he snapped, baring his teeth a bit as he said this. He knew that there was no hope of intimidating her in his current position, but still, he put on a show. Another spasm rocked his bladder and he hissed, doubling over and tightening his grip.

He heard a small giggle from the girl and shot her an icy glare. "The fuck is so funny?"

"I'd think that was obvious," she replied in a mocking tone. "Imagine what everyone would say if they could see the almighty Eric now, about to piss himself like some little kid."

He felt his face grow hot from both shame and rage at her remark. He was already on edge enough from his situation, and her snippiness did nothing to help. "You'd better shut your mouth or-"

"Or what, Eric?" She gave him a smirk. "What are you going to do to me from in there?"

"When I get out of here-"

"If you could get out of there so easily, then why haven't you gone to the bathroom already? Forgive me for not being too intimidated."

She was right. He knew she was right about that, and he knew that he had to find some way out soon, or else the unthinkable would happen. And he also knew that the only way to do that was to do the second worst option to pissing himself. He was going to have to beg Tris.

"You're right," he said, barely able to speak as he felt his legs tremble. He was so incredibly close to losing it. "I can't get out, and the fucking guard was supposed to be here by now. Can you please get someone who can help me?"

"No," she said simply.

"Tris. I'm really not in the mood to play-"

"I'm not playing," she said, giving him a wicked a grin. There was something off about her voice that he could not place, his mind too focused on the struggle he was presently faced with. "There is absolutely no good reason for me to do anything to help you."

He paused. She was right, of course, and he knew that he would probably deny someone who had done nothing to harm him just for kicks, so of course she was justified, but she was his last hope. "Please," he said, with complete and utter sincerity. " _Please_."

"No," she said again, this time with as much sincerity as him. She simply stood there, watching him as he squirmed and shook, both already knowing that it was much too late for him.

The first jet of piss that soaked through his pants did not show very well on the black fabric, but he could feel it against his hand. "Fuck," he groaned. "Damn it." Another jet burst free, and another, until it turned into a stream, and he let out a long breath as the piss ran down a leg, quickly soaking through his pants and hitting the floor with a loud hissing sound. He was pissing himself.

He dropped his hand and let his head roll back, moaning a bit. He could not deny that the relief was incredible, and he could almost forget that the circumstances were the absolute worst as he reveled in the sensation of finally emptying his bladder. There was a sizable puddle at his feet and his pants were so wet that they stuck to his legs when at last the stream trickled to a stop.

The only sound to be heard in the room now was his heavy breathing, and after a moment, that struck him as odd. First, it struck him as odd because he expected to be met with laughter from Tris, and then, after another moment, it struck him as odd because he realized he was not the only one breathing heavily.

He turned his attention to the girl in the room and saw that her face was flushed, her chest was rising and falling rapidly with each breath, and she shifted a bit, biting her lip. It was so obvious what was wrong with her that he almost burst out laughing himself, and he knew now why she had seemed so off this whole time.

She was enjoying this. She was enjoying this not as some form of revenge- though he figured that had a hand in it too- but as a turn on. Four's Stiff little girlfriend was turned on watching him wet himself.

"Well, if I knew you were denying me for your own pleasure, I might not have fought so hard," he said with a smirk. "I might have even put on a better show."

"Wh-what do you mean?" she asked. She was so flustered she could not even manage a decent comeback! This was rich.

"You know exactly what I mean," he said in an all-too-casual voice. "But, the real question is, does Four know you're into that kind of stuff?"

"I'm not!" she said, horrified, but most definitely lying.

"Really, I didn't know Stiffs got freaky like that," he continued. "Wanna come over here and let me take care of that for you?" He gave her a toothy, menacing grin.

"You're disgusting," she spat, turning and striding out of the room. He had gotten such a rise out of her that there was no way she hadn't been into it. He had really hit the nail on the head.

And the best part was, he was not going to be hearing any more from her on the subject. Sure, the guard might spill the beans, and his reputation still might be in the trash, but he had something on Tris that would ensure she would never bring up this incident ever again.

So, in the end, Eric was indescribably angry that he had been put in a position where he would have to piss himself, but his brief encounter with Tris almost made up for it. Almost, but not quite.

 **A/N: I'm sorry, I know no one was asking for this, but I couldn't resist. I love writing omo about angry men. Still working on commissions, I just. I had to. I'm sorry.**


	2. Tris

**A/N: There was not supposed to be another part to this, but due to the amount of people subscribing, I started to wonder if maybe there should be. I could not think of a real continuation, so instead you get this from Tris' perspective. But this is it, guys, there aren't going to be any more parts. If you like the omorashi aspect, I have another story about Eric, and stories about other characters coming soon, so check that out.**

Tris Prior had gotten so lost in thought that she had actually gotten lost, and she would have laughed at the cliché nature of her situation if it wasn't so problematic. Perhaps later she would take time to appreciate the humor in it, or perhaps she wouldn't; after all, the whole reason she had been on this walk, deep in thought, had been because of all the recent stressful happenings.

Whatever the case, the fact still remained that she was lost. She should have known better to go wandering Candor headquarters with her slim knowledge of the layout, but she hadn't really expected to make so many strange turns. She just hadn't been paying attention, was all, and now she had no idea where she was.

What was worse, there was no one around. She wondered if everyone was off discussing something that she had not been made aware of- a very real possibility- or if she had really just wandered into an area that was rarely populated. She couldn't tell which it what, but that didn't matter as much as finding her way back did.

She tried again and again to retrace her steps, but always somehow ended up making a wrong turn and finding herself in some place that she had never seen before. It was honestly surprising how maze-like this building was. She would think that they would prefer a building as straightforward as their personalities.

It was as she was thinking that that she turned into a very strange room, filled with several smaller rooms enclosed by glass windows. It did not take much thinking to realize that this must be the prison, and if this was the prison then that meant that someone she really did not want to see was here.

And there he was. Eric, the man who was somewhat responsible- though not entirely- for the state she was in currently, her former leader and one of the most vile people she had ever known. But there was something incredibly off about the Dauntless leader that became very apparent as soon as she got a good look at him.

He had to pee, and pretty badly, from the looks of it. Like, about-to-piss-his-pants level badly, if the way he contorted his face, bounced up and down, and grabbed his crotch was anything to go by. His eyes were closed, so he did not notice her at first, but it did not take long for him to open them, making direct eye contact with her. She stood frozen, unable to think of anything to do or say in this very strange situation.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, and even his voice made his struggle evident. "I would think they'd be afraid you'd be too unstable to be allowed around me." He was trying to taunt her, even in his present state. Even knowing he was the more pathetic one, his ego would allow for no less, she presumed.

"What's going on?" she asked. Of course, she already knew, but that was the only response that came to mind. It would have been a bit more appropriate to say, "none of your business", or "I got lost", or "are you seriously about to piss yourself", but she did not think of those until after she had spoken.

"I'd think that was fucking obvious," he replied, his voice full of venom. She resisted the urge to flinch at his harsh tone, not willing to let him know how much seeing him had unsettled her. She stood her ground, realizing that, no matter how intimidating he had been in the past, he was nothing now. He was locked up and unable to hurt her, and, above all else, he was holding himself like a child. She couldn't help but giggle at the situation.

His eyes narrowed as he said, "The fuck is so funny?"

Oh, this was just too easy. "I'd think that much was obvious. Imagine what everyone would say if they could see the almighty Eric now, about to piss himself like some little kid."

She was surprised when he blushed, something she had never seen him do before, and that was when she started to feel a bit...strange. She couldn't describe the sensation at first; it felt as though she were being pinched in the pit of her stomach, which lead to a heat spreading all the way to between her legs. But then it hit her that she had felt this before, and that it was a feeling typically experienced when she was alone with Tobias, a feeling that had a name she did not what to say in association with Eric. And certainly not in association with Eric in this state.

She tried to halt her thoughts on the matter completely, but it was hard to do that when she could still see him doing all the things he was doing. He started to speak, saying, "You'd better shut your mouth, or-"

"Or what, Eric?" she asked, interrupting him and smirking to hide whatever facial expression might surface if she did not act. "What are you going to do to me from in there?"

"When I get out here-"

Again, it was easy for her to cut him off. "If you could get out of there so easily, then why haven't you gone to the bathroom already? Forgive me for not being too intimidated."

She saw his face shift, all traces of defensiveness fading. His legs were trembling, she noticed, and he looked utterly defeated. "You're right," he admitted, breathless and strained. "I can't get out, and the fucking guard was supposed to be here by now. Can you please get someone who can help me?"

For a few seconds, she almost pitied him, but she remembered who he was and what he had done before she did anything that stupid. And, though she did not want to admit it, there was a strong part of her that really wanted to see what would happen if she did not help him. "No."

The look in his eyes was pathetic. It was easy to tell that he was crushed by her rejection, but also resigned to his fate. He understood, she could tell, that she would never want to help him in any way. Still, he argued, "Tris. I'm really not in the mood to play-"

How easy it was to interrupt him today! Her smile was positively menacing as she said, "I'm not playing. There is absolutely no good reason for me to do anything to help you."

"Please. _Please_ ," he said, and this was the biggest surprise of the day. He had already come to understand her actions, and yet he still ignored his pride enough to try and beg her. Could it be that she had actually broken him?

Again, she only said no. And then she stood back to watch the show, her interest in it only peaking as it became more and more obvious that he had really reached his limit. She was ashamed by how much she was secretly enjoying it, but she could not turn away. She was captivated.

"Fuck," he said, more to himself, and though she could not see anything yet, she knew that it had started. "Damn it." He sighed, loudly, and then she heard the sudden splashing, looking down to see a puddle begin to form at his feet. His hand fell from his crotch, and when she looked back at his face, he had thrown his head back a bit, looking almost blissful as he wet himself.

She looked back down at the puddle, which continued to grow at an impressive rate. He really had been holding in a lot, and that thought excited her even more. As the sound of the splashing faded, she could hear him panting a bit, and was humiliated to realize that she was doing the same.

"Well, if I knew you were denying me for your own pleasure, I might not have fought so hard," he said, a sickening smirk forming on his face. He had caught her. "I might have even put on a better show."

"Wh-what do you mean?" She could not let him get the better of her, not now that she had won this battle. She could not let him know what she was feeling.

"You know exactly what I mean. But, the real question is, does Four know you're into that kind of stuff?"

"I'm not!" she shrieked, both for his benefit and her own. She wasn't! She was reacting like she was, but there was just no way she could really be aroused by something like...like _that_!

"Really, I didn't know Stiffs got freaky like that. Wanna come over here and let me take care of that for you?" He grinned at her in such a way that she felt she could either punch him, throw up in her mouth, or both.

But he had still won. There was no question about that, and though she did not want to concede to him now, she could not stand being around him a second long.

"You're disgusting," she spat, and turned on her heel. She needed to get away and clear her head and then she would realize she was not into it at all. It had all just been some strange sort of misunderstanding.

~X~

After much thinking- which she had a lot of time to do, given she still struggled to find her way back- she could not continue denying it. She still hated Eric, and she still could not imagine honestly being attracted to him, but something about seeing him desperate and then, subsequently, pissing himself, had aroused her.

She didn't know why that was a thing for her or how it had come to be one, but it was and there was no denying that. She wondered briefly what it would be like with someone she did not completely despise, if it had been so exciting that time, but she knew that she would never be able to admit to that side of herself. She would have to keep to herself, from here on out.

As she was trying to forget what she had seen- even without denying her interest, she did not want to think about Eric in that way ever again- Uriah came in, a large grin on his face, barely able to stop laughing long enough to speak.

"Tris, did you hear about what happened to Eric?" he asked.

She went cold for a moment, before realizing that, not only could he not possibly be referring to her newfound interest if he was asking her, there was no way he could know in the first place. "No, what happened?"

"Well, me and some others had this bright idea," he said. "We snuck into the kitchen, where they were preparing the prisoner food for him, and slipping something in his drink, right? Something that would make him really need a piss, and then convinced the guard to 'accidentally' miss his afternoon appointment."

She nodded for him to go on, hoping he didn't notice how tense she had become at the conversation topic. "So, anyway, the guard in question just reported back that everything went as planned, and Eric actually pissed himself!" He held his hand up for a high five, which she reciprocated, giving him a small, tight smile.

"What's up?" he asked. "I thought you'd think that was funny."

"No, no, it is," she said, trying to sound more convincing. "Hilarious."

 **A/N: So I was able to excuse writing this in my head because there were some things I knew about my other story that weren't explained, such as she only found him because she was lost and he was so suddenly desperate because of a prank. The end, no more parts to this story, it's over. By the by, this file was saved on my computer as "Trisoner of War".**


End file.
